Ficlets
by cmr2014
Summary: Some previously unposted ficlets, some posted fics that are short and feel like cheating to me to count them as individual fics.
1. Feathers

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: While wrestling with what I think of as the BDSS (Big Damn Story, Sir - aka Between Devil and Demon) as I throw up my hands in surrender, stop trying to make it perfect, and settle for just trying to finish and edit the current chapter for publication, I find myself doing some spring cleaning. And so I do believe I will make a little series of some ficlets I have just lazing about, plus some too-short one-shots I've already posted so I can take them down. This will be ongoing and probably sporadic, deal with it.

**Feathers**

Meryl sighed to herself, looking at Vash's side of the bed.

She'd long ago given up on trying to convince him to neaten up daily.

Still, there was a benefit. She hummed to herself as she swept the loose feathers from the bed into a casing that, once full, would be made into a new pillow.

Every day seemed like an exercise in finding ways to make lemonade from lemons. But, Meryl thought to herself with a smile, she wouldn't trade anything for her life with Vash.


	2. Wakeup Call

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Wakeup Call**

An upside, it could be argued, to being Vash the Stampede was that he didn't get drunk. Alcohol just didn't work on him the way it did humans. Remaining sober no matter how much he drank packed a certain advantage in that he retained his faculties against drunken opponents, making it easier to handle them without resorting to force.

The downside was that, as it did with many humans, the alcohol always left a hangover in its wake.

He was trying to sleep; hangovers didn't bother him when he slept. But somebody had brought a damn jackhammer into the bedroom and fired it up, and it was seriously aggravating an already bad headache.

Consciousness partially intruded on him, forcing his brain to function against its will. That wasn't a jackhammer, it was the phone ringing incessantly.

Vash opened his eyes a crack and was immediately blinded. Too bright! Damn it, Meryl was always doing stuff like this, opening the curtains all the way so the sunlight was directly on him, interfering with the natural order of time eliminating a hangover. His eyes immediately shut again.

His hand blindly groped, grasping the first thing that felt like a phone. It was a banana, but it felt to him like a phone and he lifted it to his ear, ignorant that the ringing had stopped because Meryl had already dispensed with the call.

"Yello?"

"Vash."

"M'r'l? Wh'ar'ya?"

"Right here."

That was ridiculous. How could Meryl be here if she was on the phone? Just like her to poke him for being hung over. Behind closed eyelids, he rolled his eyes.

"I left you a snack to help you feel better. I just wanted to tell you I love you, despite how aggravating you are with your constant hangovers, and I'll see you when I get home from work."

Headache or not, Vash had to smile. His wife was feisty and bitchy and on his case a lot, but it was all out of love, and he found her little gestures like leaving him a snack and going out of her way to phone home like this incredibly sweet.

"Lurv y'too, inshr- inshan - darlin'." Still smiling happily, he hung up the banana and went back to sleep.

Standing in the doorway, Meryl couldn't help but grin. She shook her head at her exasperating, wonderful husband and left for work.


	3. One Cat Leads to Another

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow. Bleach and its characters belong to Tite Kubo.

**One Cat Leads to Another**

The idea had first come to Wolfwood in New Oregon, when Vash had abandoned their meal to go butt in to more things that were none of his business.

The priest initially dismissed the idea, but as he thought about it over time, it made more and more sense to him. Nobody other than Vash knew the full extent of the Humanoid Typhoon's powers, after all.

It gnawed at his subconscious. Then ate at his full conscious mind. Finally, Wolfwood decided the only way he would get any peace in this matter would be to confront Vash directly. One day, while drinking at the saloon of the town they were stopped in, he decided to do exactly that. He abandoned his current shot of whiskey…only to step back to it and drain it. Waste not, want not. Then he went to confront Vash, who was just a few tables away drinking beer and striking out with the saloon girls, on this matter of vital importance.

Wolfwood slammed his hands down on Vash's table. Vash, in return, looked placidly at the priest. "Yes?"

"Answer me truthfully!" Wolfwood snapped. "Are you or are you not a cat?"

Vash blinked. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Don't screw with me, spikey! If you're not a cat, then tell me why I've never seen you in the same room as a cat!"

Just then, a black cat hopped up in the chair next to Vash, and from there onto the table. It sniffed Vash's beer and experimentally took a taste.

"Hi, fella!" Vash exclaimed with a bright smile. "Where'd you come from, huh?" He looked back at Wolfwood. "Now what's this business about me and cats?"

Wolfwood's expression had lost its fire. "Er…nothing. Never mind." Slackjawed and scratching his head, he returned to his seat at the bar and signaled for another whiskey to make everything better.

Vash petted the cat, which arched its back a bit and purred before jumping down from the table and heading out. The blond gunman lingered a few minutes more before laying some bills next to his bill and leaving as well.

He returned to his hotel room. Locking the door behind him, he went and sat on his bed next to the black cat from the saloon.

"That was close," Vash said with a wipe of his brow. "You really saved my butt on that one, I thought Wolfwood might actually have me. Thanks, Yoruichi."

"No worry, Vash," the cat responded in a deep male voice. "I've been waiting for a chance to repay you for helping me train Ichigo. But speaking of him, the furs on the back of my neck are tingling. I think I should go check on how he's doing. You never know what trouble that boy's gotten himself into. Kind of like you, actually."

Vash grinned. "Sure thing. Tell Ichigo I said hi. Hell, bring him here some time, I wouldn't mind a rematch."

"Don't you think one hole in a moon is enough?" the cat named Yoruichi retorted.

"Good point. We'll do it back on your turf."

"We'll see. I know he'd like to see you again as well, but the two of you around each other is like trouble in stereo. You even start to sound alike to me. At any rate, I'll drop in again when I can. Goodbye for now."

"Bye, Yoruichi."

There was a bright flash as Yoruichi the cat disappeared into the multiversal portal it summoned.

Vash smiled to himself, but before his mind could wander too far, his stomach rumbled. Time for a snack. He closed his eyes and breathed deep…

His clothes collapsed around him. From the pile emerged a black cat that looked not terribly different from Yoruichi.

Vash the cat stretched and smiled to himself, thinking of how Wolfwood's head would explode if the priest were in the room right now. Then he gracefully leaped out the window on the hunt. eagerly following the scent of salmon sandwiches. Tally-ho!


	4. Target Practice

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Target Practice**

Even the best gunmen have to stay honed. Vash the Stampede was no exception. He was an ace gunman, and he stayed that way by training regularly.

Today was a target practice day.

He did not practice like those people at the range. Just standing still and shooting was a good way to get drilled in a real gunfight. He moved. Crouched. Went prone. Rolled.

Shot single targets. Multiples. Hostages.

Single shots. Double taps. Speed loads. Manual reloads. Drilled everything he could think of. Over and over.

Because he knew the truth – you don't rise to your expectations, you fall to your training. He had seen too many people get lazy and rely on luck. But luck will get you so far, and then it will get you dead.

So he trained. And for hours, gunshots echoed. Meryl wondered – often – how he afforded ammunition, gun gear, and donuts when he went through so much of them. He always laughed it off. Some things were better left a mystery.

He heard a thomas coming up on him. Slapped a fresh moon clip in the gun and closed the cylinder. Turned around casually.

"Spikey." Wolfwood nodded as he dismounted.

"Wolfwood. Your bike looks different today."

Wolfwood laughed. "Yeah. It's in the shop. Guy gave me this in the meantime to get around town. Said if I keep the food and coop receipts, he'll comp it."

Vash's eyebrow arched. "What happened to the bike?"

Wolfwood lit a smoke. "Funny story. Ran out of coolant crossing the desert into town. Overheated. I put some cold water in it and it cracked the radiator."

Vash clenched his jaw to keep it from dropping. "You didn't. You put _cold_ water in an overheated – crying out loud, man! You're supposed to know not to do that! Good God, and you call yourself a rider. Basic physics!"

"Hey, spikey! Don't lecture me on physics! You want physics, have a lesson in how to shoot. You see that target of the zombie grabbing the girl out there?"

"Yeah, I see it. Straight out to my nine o'clock. What of it?"

Wolfwood set down his punisher. Released the bundling. Opened the panel and took out a pistol.

Held it straight out to his side and pulled the trigger. "That's what of it. Don't lecture me on physics when I can make bullets dance."

Vash jerked his head. "Don't get cocky. Let's see what you hit."

"Let's."

They marched out to the target.

Vash smirked. "You hit the girl."

"I was aiming at the girl!" Wolfwood protested. "She was bitten."

Vash pointed with his gun. "I don't see any bite marks."

Wolfwood went and bit out a chunk of the target. Spat it out. "Bite mark, right there!"

Vash burst out laughing. "Lame. Come on, let's go back to the line."

"I have a better idea," Wolfwood said. "Forget all this paper crap; let's shoot something you can actually tell you hit."

"Like what?"

Wolfwood led the way. "There's a bunch of fruit just sitting up here by the house. We'll use that."

Vash scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "I don't know. I seem to remember Meryl bringing that home this morning. I think she had plans for it."

Wolfwood snorted. "Don't be such a whipped idiot. If Meryl was going to use that stuff, it would be in the house. It's just sitting out here, going to waste. We'll put it to good use. Here, grab a box."

They hauled several boxes of fruit downrange and set up as targets some watermelons, apples, pears, and pineapples. Once all the fruit was set up, they went back to the firing line.

"Now we can have some _real_ target practice," Wolfwood grinned. Vash couldn't help but grin back.

They went to town on their fruit targets, trying to outdo each other.

"One eye." Wolfwood nicked the end of a watermelon.

"Backward, no eyes." Vash took care of the rest of the watermelon.

"Gangsta." Pistol held sideways, Wolfwood took out an apple.

"Upside down." Vash disintegrated a pear.

"_Pineapple's mine!"_ they yelled and shot at the same time. A pineapple blew apart as both bullets hit.

It didn't take very long for their showing off to destroy all the fruit. In the end, it was a tie, as it always was when they shot against each other.

They were just shaking hands when Meryl Stryfe came out of the house.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Wolfwood. Vash, I was going to start making dinner. I had some fruit out here softening up so I could use it for pies for dessert, have you seen –"

She took in the fruity-licious carnage. Eye twitched. Vash suddenly got very nervous.

"I see you've been having some target practice," Meryl said frostily.

"Wolfwood –" Vash started.

"I think I'd like to join in on some moving targets!"

"– _RUN!_"

Vash and Wolfwood fled under a hail of derringer fire.

"She's _your_ girlfriend," Wolfwood panted as shots flew by. "We should outrun her pretty quick, right?"

Vash grinned as he sprinted ahead, leaving Wolfwood to face the wrath that was Meryl Stryfe. "I don't have to outrun _her_; I just have to outrun _you_!"


	5. Showdown

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Showdown**

The suns were high in the sky, minimizing shadows and maximizing heat. Grit swirled over the open ground in the desert breeze that flapped both a cape and a duster as two people faced each other.

"You sure you want to do this?" Vash the Stampede asked.

Meryl Stryfe's expression left no doubt. "Absolutely."

Vash nodded slowly. "Let's get at it, then."

No sooner had he finished his sentence than Meryl's hands were a flash, ducking in her cape and coming out with a derringer in each fist. One shot fired as soon as it came level, but Vash was no longer in the same space.

He was incredibly fast, but Meryl had spent enough time both watching him fight and fighting alongside him to anticipate where he would be. She fired there as she went on the move herself, dropping the empty derringers and withdrawing fresh ones.

The shot might have hit its target, except Vash somehow contorted himself just enough for it to miss by a couple millimeters. He had drawn his own gun and now returned his own shot, aiming just ahead of where Meryl was. To her credit, she had kept track of him as she moved; she now swerved as he pulled the trigger, his round spraying sand.

It continued on like this for several minutes, an evenly matched event where each participant was both cat and mouse. Vash was as good as anyone would expect from a man of his reputation, but Meryl's time with him had sharpened her own skills and reflexes. She proved herself no slouch against him.

Finally, both of them sweating from the high-heat exertion, their chests heaving, Meryl grinned triumphantly as she had Vash on his knees, a derringer pressed firmly under his jaw.

He grinned back – his revolver's barrel was against her heart. It was hot from being fired multiple times, but through the thick shirt she wore for these sessions it felt like no more than the heat of a lover's touch.

"Draw," Meryl noted with a happy tone. "Water break and rematch?"

"Deal," her husband agreed with the same happy tone.

The pair treated themselves to a quick training break, good-naturedly ribbing each other over their training match.

Knives scowled as he stood on the house's deck and crossed his arms. "It looks like bad art," he opined of the paint-spattered area where Meryl and Vash had had their "shootout". "Live-fire makes for better training than simunitions. And this is pointless anyway! The short woman has improved, but Vash still has to hold himself back for her to stand any chance. He gains nothing from this!"

Milly Thompson sighed from her seat beside him. "Haven't you figured it out by now, Mr. Knives?" she asked. "This is how they flirt."


	6. Peace of Mind

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Peace of Mind**

"Let me just go get my coat!" the daughter of Vash the Stampede told her date.

The teenaged would-be suitor sat nervously. Across the table from him sat the most dangerous man on the planet, finishing cleaning his weapon.

"I-it-it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir," the kid stammered.

Vash snepped the cylinder into place wordlessly, closing and breaking open the gun again to ensure it worked properly.

"Your daughter's told me a lot about you..."

"I'm going to hunt you."

The kid blinked. "I - I beg your pardon, sir?"

"I'm going to hunt you," Vash repeated. "I'm going to load this gun, then I'm going to come after you. If you survive 24 hours of me pursuing you, then I'll judge you worthy of dating my daughter. But if I catch you - well, don't let me catch you." He inserted a shell into the cylinder.

"You can't be serious!" the teen blurted.

Vash thumbed in another shell.

"Oh, my God, you are!"

Another shell went in.

The kid jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over the chair he had just been sitting in, and bolted past Vash. He clawed the front door open, blowing through it with such force he created a vacuum that sucked it closed.

Vash's daughter emerged, pulling on her coat. "Sorry it took so long - wait, where did he go?"

"I don't know," Vash said innocently. "He just suddenly up and left."

"Why does this keep happening to me?" she shrieked in dismay, running off to her room.

Meryl Stryfe came from the kitchen just in time to hear their daughter's door slamming. She looked at the empty chair. "Good grief, you did it again, didn't you?"

Vash smiled serenely.

"You know, eventually she's going to find a boy you can't scare off."

"I know," Vash told her, his smile widening. "But until that happens, my peace of mind stays intact."


	7. Summer Day

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

DISCLAIMER: "Doctor Who" and its characters are not mine.

**Summer Day**

It was a hot summer day, the saying of which was redundant on the planet Gunsmoke. All you had to do was say "summer" and people nodded knowingly. Even mornings this time of year became hot with the appearance of the suns.

The heat was why it was common for houses to have awnings, commonly known as "sombrillas" in this part of Gunsmoke, over their front decks.

So it was on this summer day with its oppressive heat that laid on everything like a heavy weight, that two men found it preferable to stay under the shade of a sombrilla. They were doing their best to doze in folding chairs, wide-brimmed hats tilted low, their regular tops traded for loose-fitting ones of breathable material.

A strange sound came from out in the open sunlight. A tall blue box shimmered into being.

Without otherwise moving, the gun hand of one of the men moved to rest lightly on his weapon. "Spikey…"

"Easy, Wolfwood," Vash the Stampede replied, only his mouth moving. "Just let it happen."

The door on the box opened. A man emerged from it, wearing blue trousers and a brown tweed jacket that covered a suspendered shirt and red bow tie. Following him came a pretty young woman with red hair and clothes to match.

"Good day, gentlemen," the man called. "Might we trouble you for the place and date?"

Vash tipped his hat up. "Date?"

Wolfwood's hat went up as well. "I'll take it, spikey. What's it to you, bow tie?" he called to the newcomers.

"There's no need for the derisive tone," the man from the blue box answered. "Bow ties are cool."

"Doctor…" His red-haired companion nudged him.

"Quite right, Amy." He turned his attention back to Vash and Wolfwood. "We're merely a pair of travelers who might like to sample some local culture. Please, the place and date?"

"If you don't know, then you're _really_ not from around here. You're on the planet Gunsmoke, summer of – spikey, what year is it?"

"One-thirty-five," Vash said.

"It's later than that," Wolfwood corrected. "One-eighty?"

"Not that late. Maybe –"

They continued their lazy guessing game while the man referred to as Doctor returned inside the blue box and came out again a few moments later.

"We'd best be leaving, Amy," he instructed his companion. "I've corrected our position and re-checked, and in twelve hours life on this planet is going to get very…interesting."

His companion grew concerned. "Doctor, shouldn't we –"

"Fixed event, can't change anything. Gentlemen, I wish you luck in the coming trials."

He hustled his companion back in the blue box, which then shimmered back out of being.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Wolfwood wondered.

"No clue. But he said it can't be changed, no use worrying about it." Vash put his hat back down and returned to dozing.

After a moment's consideration, Wolfwood shrugged and did the same.

Shortly thereafter, Meryl Stryfe and Milly Thompson returned from their trip into town. Meryl observed the two men napping.

"They were like that when we left and they're still like that," she groused to her friend. "Nothing interesting ever happens anymore."


	8. Interrupted

DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

DISCLAIMER: "The Matrix" and its characters are not mine.

**Interrupted**

Meryl Stryfe had no idea how this had happened or even was possible, given the size differences between her and Vash, but she had wanted it long enough that she was asking no questions as she rode the waves of orgasm.

Then the door burst in and it all went to hell…

* * *

"Let me get this straight, Mr…Morpheus?" Meryl asked.

The man in front of her nodded wordlessly.

"This woman –"

"Trinity," the woman Meryl was speaking of supplied helpfully.

"Trinity, interrupts something she has no business interrupting, shoots Vash – the man I was with – with a tranquilizer, and drags me here. And you're telling me what I was experiencing was not real, and that you think I'm this One you're looking for."

The man named Morpheus nodded and placed two pills before Meryl. "What you were experiencing was in fact an artificial simulation designed to keep you complacent. Now, you have a choice. You take the blue pill, you wake up back where you were. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. It's your choice."

"Ok, then. If you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of something." Meryl gobbled up the blue pill, eager to return to her encounter with Vash.

After her body had been taken to be returned to Vash's hotel room, Morpheus turned to Trinity. "It looks like she wasn't the One. Who is the next possibility?"

"His name is Millions Knives," Trinity told him.

"Bring him to me and let's see what happens."


End file.
